


A Dragonborn's Secrets

by Verdigirl



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Armor, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Daedric Artifacts (Elder Scrolls), Daedric Princes (Elder Scrolls), Daedric Quests (Elder Scrolls), Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Domestic Fluff, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), F/M, Fluff and Humor, Moving In Together, Slice of Life, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdigirl/pseuds/Verdigirl
Summary: When Vilkas of Jorrvaskr moves into Heljarchen Hall with his new wife, he thought he'd find the usual things one would expect in a great house: a kitchen, or perhaps a library. He never expected an armory fit for a jarl, filled with his wife's secrets...
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	A Dragonborn's Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it was funny how one person could be the leader of nearly every faction in Skyrim. This story explores how the Dragonborn’s nearest and dearest would react to hearing about their... club memberships. Featuring my Dragonborn, Iseult the Black, and her new husband, Vilkas. :)

Vilkas of Jorrvaskr had never seen a house so grand as his wife’s. When Iseult had mentioned she’d built a house not far from Whiterun, Vilkas was relieved. Outside of adventuring, he had never lived apart from his twin brother. Now he could go visit Farkas whenever he chose, or, better yet, invite him to stay in the guest room. For they had a _guest room_ —Vilkas grinned as he set the last of his trunks in the entryway. His wife’s house could rival the jarl’s palace, he was certain.

“Welcome to Heljarchen Hall, milord,” a voice interrupted his thoughts. A tall man in practical steel armor bowed to greet him. “I am Gregor, our lady’s housecarl and steward of Heljarchen Hall. I am pleased you have arrived unharmed.” Vilkas had never seen a steward, before. The housekeeper at Jorrvaskr, Tilda, was more like a grandmother than an actual steward. She certainly never treated him like _this_.

“T-Thank you,” he replied, just as stiffly. “Where is my wife?” He smiled to himself; ‘wife’ was still such a new word to him. It tasted sweet on his tongue, smooth, as though it had always been a part of him. A warmth spread in his chest.

“In the armory, milord.” The man took up a trunk and carried it off for unpacking. Vilkas wandered into the main hall, secretly wondering what he had done to deserve a house with a grand fireplace and ceilings so tall, a giant wouldn’t bump his head on the rafters. Perhaps this _was_ a dream, and he’d wake up in his bed at Jorrvaskr...

“ _There_ you are,” Iseult cried, bursting in. She wound her arms around his waist and kissed him sweetly. “I was about to mount a search party for you. Was the carriage delayed? Come and see what I made for you, love.” She whisked him through a set of double doors to what Vilkas could only describe as the most beautiful armory he had ever seen. Weapon racks, display cases with real glass he’d only seen the like of at the jarl’s palace. Mannequins and shield racks lined the wall. His jaw dropped.

“I wanted this room to be ready for you,” she said shyly. “It’s your wedding present.”

“My _what?_ ” She’d already gifted him a fine set of armor with a matching longsword. Even _more?_

“It’s for both of us,” she said. “My armor sets are here, too. See?” He did. On one end of the room, there were mannequins sporting all sorts of different armors. He recognized some. The Wolf Armor of the Companions’ Inner Circle. Delicate glass armor made of panes of green malachite.

“Is that...” he leaned in. “Is that from the Dawnguard?”

She grinned. “Mhmm, I’m a member.” He’d never known that about her.

“And that one?” Vilkas pointed to a mannequin.

“A gift from Hircine.” His eyes went wide.

“You have armor from a _daedric prince_?” She seemed completely nonplussed.

“And that one is from Boethiah, as her champion. And this is from the Dark Brotherhood; I earned it as their Listener. And that one’s from the Thieves Guild; it’s specially enchanted to help with pickpocketing—er, never mind. And this one is my Nightingale armor—”

Vilkas had only heard rumors of the Nightingales. Stories of the daedric prince, Nocturnal, and her loyal, terrifying servants. Legendary thieves and bloodthirsty witches, the lot of them. To see his wife with such armor made his head spin.

“A-Are you a Nightingale, too?” he asked. 

Iseult blinked at him. “Of course, how else would I get the armor, love?”

Vilkas felt his knees go weak. He sank onto a stool in the corner. “Y-You’re the Dragonborn,” he said, counting on his fingers. “The Harbinger of the Companions, Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, member of Dawnguard, Hero of the Civil War, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood—”

“It’s hardly a brotherhood, darling, there’s only three people, including myself—”

“ _And_ Champion of nearly every daedric prince in existence?” He looked to her, incredulous. “Did I miss anything?” She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

“My ceremonial robes as Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold are upstairs in my wardrobe?”

Seemed there was much, much more to his wife than Vilkas realized.


End file.
